The Consolers of the Lonely
by Sisyphean Effort
Summary: It's senior year and Ishida has a lot on his plate: he's class president, he runs craft club, he's writing college admission essays. Oh, and he's also responsible for slaying all the hollows in Karakura Town now that Ichigo's lost his powers. Will the pressure be too much for him? And how will it affect his and Ichigo's relationship? Ichigo/Ishida. Slash. Mature themes. ON HIATUS.
1. Prologue: Price and Promise

_Note: This story is set up as a loose sequel to my fic. "The Heart is Treacherous in Many Ways," though I don't think it's necessary to read that fic. to enjoy this one. In this, Ichigo and Uryuu are in an already established relationship. This particular opening scene (which I published as a stand alone called "Price and Promise" months ago) takes place in Hueco Mundo, right before Ichigo leaves for his final showdown with Aizen during the Winter War._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach._

_Title: Stolen from the Raconteurs' album/song of the same name._

"The Consolers of the Lonely"

Prologue:

Price and Promise

_"Ichigo stop!"_

_ The rampage continued. The hollow-like creature that used to be Ichigo charged forward, sword in hand, ready to strike, and he knew he wouldn't be able to dodge it. He knew it. His powers were far too depleted; his energy all but spent. This foolhardy endeavor was now at an end. He had taken on far more than his own ability allowed, and now he was going to pay for it._

_ Still, he hadn't been able to stop himself from trying..._

_ "Ichigo don't!" But it was too late. The blade was suddenly there, cutting through him like butter, deep red running black as crude under Aizen's falsely starry sky. Somewhere, Orihime was screaming. The world was spinning around him. The monstrous roaring abruptly stopped. And before he fell into a blanketing darkness, he heard Ichigo say, in a lost, confused voice:_

_ "Ishida?"_

_ "Ichigo no!" _Ishida was jarred awake, the phantom feeling of the sword cutting through his stomach snapping him out of his memory/dream. His hand slid beneath his tunic, touching the still-delicate wound. He winced at the all-too-real pain. Thank God for Orihime. Without her powers, he would truly be dead.

Ishida sat up, disentangling himself from the blanket he was wrapped up in. He was alone inside the tent. He vaguely recalled the trek from the palace, the short journey across the desert. He had flitted in and out of consciousness, delirious from his wounds, while his friends had all but carried him across the shifting sands. He remembered Captian Unahona's face hovering above his own, briefly, before he had drifted off, settling into the warm, luxurious folds of a deep and recuperative sleep. "Sleep, and be well," she had intoned, and the words had fallen on him like a benediction. Ishida had never slept so long or so well. At least, until the nightmare...

_"Ishida..."_

Ishida turned and saw that there was someone standing at the entrance to the tent. The Quincy tensed. Both voice and figure were unfamiliar. No, wait-that wasn't right. Ishida could feel a spirit energy, coiled and intensely powerful, emanating from the strange, shadowy form. _I know this reiatsu, he thought. I've felt it before. _Still, both the voice and figure were unknown to him. Without speaking again, the darkened figure allowed the tent flap to fall gently back into place. The creature-a lithe, sexless thing in a long, flowing robe-walked alongside the tent, the bulbous moon casting a long, slender shadow on the flimsy canvas wall. Instinctively, Ishida got to his feet. He lifted the tent flap and boldly followed the creature outside.

On the crest of a sand dune the creature stopped moving. Ishida stood at the base, looking up. "Who are you?" he demanded, the weak rasp in his voice counteracting his attempt to sound authoritative.

Silence. Long black hair blew wispily on the desert breeze. The creature still had its back to him. Known, but unknown. Reiatsu crackled through the air, strong and maddeningly familiar. Ishida narrowed his eyes. "Do I know you? Have we met?"

"After a fashion." The voice was young and male. Yet somehow Ishida got the impression that the creature before him was very old indeed. Black robes flapped in the wind as the creature turned to face him. Ishida was confronted with a delicate pale face and amber eyes, a combination that was both striking and stunningly pretty. Ishida swallowed involuntarily, disturbed by the timbre of his own thoughts.

"You...you're connected to Ichigo somehow." Ishida, always a proponent of sound logic and clear linear thinking, suddenly knew why the creature's spirit energy was familiar. It was the same as Ichigo's. If he closed his eyes right at this moment, he would swear that it was Ichigo standing before him.

"I am," the creature answered in cryptic tones.

Ishida didn't care for cryptic. "Who are you?" he demanded again.

"You can call me Tensa Zangetsu."

Silence. Ishida's mind raced. He knew that one of the fundamental differences between Quincy and Shinigami was the idea that Shinigami treated their weapons, their zanpakuto, as living beings, each with its own innate consciousness. Quincy did no such thing. It was a completely foreign concept to them. The idea that wielder and weapon could forge a bond, could communicate with each other-it was absurd. Yet, the spiritual pressure coming from this creature was identical to Ichigo's. And that only made sense if...

"You're...you're Ichigo's zanpakuto?"

"Yes." There was a slight smile, a knowing twinkle in the creature's pale eyes.

"How? Why are you here?" The cratered moon outlined the zanpakuto's form, the shredded edges of the dark robe billowing around him. He looked so young, yet there was this innate sense of power about him. It wafted off him, crackling and fierce. Its intensity practically made the Quincy sway on his feet.

"Because he will need you, Ishida. When this is over. Ichigo will need you more than ever."

"What do you mean?" Ishida felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. There was a sadness in the zanpakuto's tone, an inflection that was impossible to miss. The Quincy repeated himself. "What do you mean by that?" The sentence grew louder.

The creature ignored him. Instead, it turned and walked down the opposite side of the dune. Sand rippled across the hill in painterly waves. Dark hair writhed around the zanpakuto's head like seaweed, obscuring his face. Ishida followed him into the desert, his silence demanding an explanation.

The zanpakuto spoke again. "On the morrow, Ichigo will ask me for it."

"Ask you? Ask you for what?"

The zanpakuto stopped and turned to face the Quincy. "For the power. To defeat_ him_."

Ishida didn't need to ask who 'him' was. _Aizen. _The zanpakuto's face turned sorrowful. "And I will not be able to dissuade him from it." Again, there was that unmistakable inflection of sadness.

Alarm bells sounded in the Quincy's head. "Dissuade him? Why would you do that? If he can truly defeat Aizen-"

"Because it will cost him everything," the weapon answered dejectedly. Ishida froze. "You know what I mean, Ishida. You, above all, must know-"

"He will lose his powers." The Quincy spoke the words aloud before the zanpakuto could. The two dark-haired, pale-faced boys stood looking at each other in perfect comprehension, perfect understanding. Ishida didn't speak. He didn't know what else to say.

The Quincy tensed as the zanpakuto approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Round amber eyes met slitted sapphire. "Be there for him, Uryuu. When this is over. When I am...when I am gone. Be there for him." Sorrow-filled eyes met steely ones as the weapon turned and began to walk away.

"Zangetsu..." Ishida said his name, but the zanpakuto kept on walking. He watched the dark-robed figure ascend another dune, the lithe form stark against the round frame of the ivory moon. "Remember what I said, Uryuu. Take care of Ichigo. Do that for me." The creature didn't turn again to face him. As he disappeared over the crest, the Quincy said in a tiny, agonized whisper:

"I promise, Zangetsu..."


	2. Chapter 1: The Nightly Hunt

_Now we jump several months ahead, to the time of the Fullbringer arc..._

_Warnings: Lots of violence in this chapter, folks. FYI, you have been warned._

"The Consolers of the Lonely"

Chapter 1:

The Nightly Hunt

The hollow stalked through the half-finished building on long, gangly legs, suction from the muddy ground impeding its progress. Rain fell from the night sky at a steady clip, turning the newly-turned earth into a treacherous swamp. The hollow's long, boar-like snout sniffed the air, scenting out the presence of a particularly succulent reiatsu. The creature's sharp-toothed mouth salivated with barely-contained anticipation. The grotesque snout snuffled along the muddy ground, drawing closer to its unseen prey. Or so it believed. As it rounded a cluster of metal barrels, the hollow saw not a tasty human meal waiting, but a simple cube of hollow bait positioned on the ground.

The hollow had been tricked.

The creature roared angrily as a shimmering blue net fell from the sky, encapsulating it in a trap of spirit-fueled energy. The gangly legs skittered and danced in the mud, and the creature fell, still roaring, ensnaring itself further in the net. Through the blue patchwork grid, up in the metal beams overhead, the creature spied a movement and a flash of white. Spirit energy filled the air. In frustration, the hollow began snapping at the net, its powerful jaws rending and tearing at the reiatsu-made material. The white object drew closer. Just as the creature managed to punch a hole large enough to force its head through, a blinding blue arrow, like a bolt of lightning, came racing towards its head. The hollow roared its rage as the sky flashed brilliantly white.

Then silence. The hunt was promptly over.

* * *

><p>Ishida jumped down from the scaffold, floating like a white lotus petal to the ground. The hollow remained conspicuously still inside the net, its spirit particules not yet dissipated. The makeshift webbing filled the construction site with the pulsing blue glow of reiatsu, turning Ishida's white face and outfit into a pale cornflower hue. He kicked at the hollow's tail with the tip of his shoe, muttering, "Scatter, you nuisance. It's late, and I have a paper due tomorrow. Not to mention it's raining, and I'm soaked through." Ishida turned away in disgust. That's when the creature reared up and lashed its tail, its razor-sharp spines catching the Quincy across the back. The archer cried out in surprise and pain as he was sent flying face first into the mud. It felt like a million serrated blades had been dragged across his back. He crawled up on his hands and knees, barely noting the red-tinged rain sliding along the sleeves of his dirtied tunic. He gulped in air as a stinging pain danced across his nerves, slowing his movements down to a pathetic crawl.<p>

The creature roared into the night, concerned only with its own injuries. In the darkness of the construction site another pair of red slitted eyes appeared. A second, equally large hollow came slowly lumbering out from behind the set of barrels, its scaly exterior shining wetly in the downpour. A lizard-like tongue flicked at the air, as the creature was drawn in by the heady scent of blood and spirit energy. It slithered languidly through the mud, drawing closer to the other hollow that was trapped in the net. It had yet to spot Ishida.

_What a stupid miscalculation on my part; now I'm really screwed. _Panic started to set in, causing the archer's limbs to shake as he tried to crawl away unseen. His mind raced through a series of possible maneuvers and outcomes as he tried to think of a way out of his current predicament. None of the scenarios were good. In a far-off corner of his already cluttered brain, he cursed Kurosaki, who was not here with him but home snug in his bed.

But that couldn't be helped, could it? Ichigo had lost all his powers. It was left to Ishida to slay the hollows.

Rain and blood dripped steadily down onto the slick, muddy landscape. The hollow continued to thrash inside the net, howling in pain and rage. Ishida felt a slight shift of energy and his head jerked around, water falling in a curtain from his already soaked bangs. The second hollow was staring directly at him. Its chin dipped toward the ground as it prepared to lunge.

There was nothing for it. Ishida turned on his back, wincing as his wounds sang out a cantata of pain along his ravaged flesh. He drew his bow and fired. An unearthly shriek filled the air, but pounding hooves still clopped along the soggy ground, the sound drawing mercilessly close. The rain falling on his glasses made it easy for Ishida not to see, made it easy for him to welcome the enveloping darkness and his own inevitable demise. He closed his eyes, feeling the wet flush of cold rain pattering along his face, thinking only of Ichigo sleeping blissfully unaware back home.

_Stupid Strawberry. Why did you have to go and lose your powers? Now I'm done for..._

"Shred, Benihime!"

A bright red light burst into being behind Ishida's eyelids. A roar and a crash filled the air. The sounds were all very distant, secondary, as the most immediate sensation Ishida was aware of was pain: burning, twisting, searing pain. It scorched along his back, burrowed through his insides. Overwhelming, wretched, untenable pain, and then-

_Nothing. _

_Darkness._

_Oblivion._

* * *

><p>Murmuring voices. A gold, wavering light. Shadows dancing along a rice paper screen. And agony. Burning, constant agony. Ishida, in a stupor, tried to move, and was rewarded with a lancing pain that drove straight through his spine, causing him to cry out in an undignified manner.<p>

_He's awake._

_ More's the pity for him. I should think he would want to be out while I remove the last of these barbs. Tessai, hold him still. I nearly have the last of them._

Large, strong hands encircled Ishida's wrists, their touch as cold as a wet cloth on his hot skin. He realized he was lying on his stomach, and the damp air was caressing his back. His skin felt like it was on fire. He didn't try to struggle, not after that last bit of pain. He tried to remain still. He tried, for the sake of his Quincy pride, to be silent-

"AHHHHHHHH!" The shriek was torn from his throat without warning. The pain digging through his back left scorch marks in its wake. It was unbearable.

_Kisuke, careful!_

_ I'm trying, Tessai. But these barbs are laced with poison. I have to be quick. _There was an unfamiliar emotion, a quavering in that voice, but whether it was real or imagined, Ishida could not tell. Ishida's pain-laced mind held on to only one thought as he lay there, his half-closed eyes blearily watching the shifting shadows on the wall.

"Ichigo..."

_Kisuke, I think he just said something._

_ Nevermind Tessai, he's delirious. Jinta, bring me that hypodermic from my kit. _

_ Again, Kisuke? Isn't that pushing it? You've already injected him once-_

Ishida screamed as another barb was abruptly yanked out. He tried to disentangle himself from the steely grip he was in. Part of him wanted to cry. Part of him wanted to beg. _Please, no more. _ But he would do none of those things. He was a Quincy. He was strong. He would not break. He would not bow down. He would not-

A small, fiery pinprick jabbed him just below the hip. Ishida heard a far-off voice say:

_It's a mercy, Tessai._

And then his mind went spinning, spinning, circling until it was promptly pulled down the drain, far down into the darkness, where he could blessedly no longer think or feel anything.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 2: His Keeper

_My thanks to all of you who have reviewed! As you know, comments make for an excellent incentive to keep writing, and the faster I write, the faster this story gets updated, so..._

"The Consolers of the Lonely"

Chapter 2:

His Keeper

The light crept in slowly, turning the dark rainy night into the dull grey of a dove's plumage. Spindly tree branches cross-hatched the window like the lines of an etch-a-sketch screen, marking up the pristine sky. From the corner of the kitchen a small tea kettle sounded, letting off a high-pitched cry like a whistling crane. Urahara turned from the window and went to the stove, lifting the kettle from the burner. He poured the tea into a small green mug, added sugar, then picked up the tray and swept from the room. He walked down a long narrow hallway lined with windows, the pale morning light casting a checkerboard pattern across his sandaled feet. He took the tip of his foot and nudged open another door, silently sliding it back into position behind him. He set the tray down on a small round table by the entranceway and contemplated the boy lying still as death on the low futon across the room.

Even though he was swaddled in shadow, the red welts on Ishida's back stood out in stark contrast to his once perfect alabaster skin. Urahara watched gratefully as his shoulders lifted and fell with his steady breathing. Good. He would have failed his charge miserably if he had gotten sicker during the night. Urahara approached the cot with hesitation, creeping quietly across the matted floor. There was no need for silence, though, for the next thing he heard was:

"No need to be so careful, sensei. I could sense your reiatsu from the other side of the dojo."

Urahara lifted an eyebrow. "Such cheek. Even in your current condition."

The bundle on the futon shifted with obvious effort. A pair of bleary cobalt eyes met Urahara's as Ishida gingerly flipped over on his side, carefully avoiding anything that might touch his back. Urahara felt his jaw clench as he got a good, unobscured look at him. If Ishida had been beautiful before, that was nothing but a pale shade compared to what his new adult self looked like. Ishida was now, to put it simply, absolutely stunning. Mottled back and all.

Urahara turned away, using the tea tray as an excuse to busy himself. He picked up the cup and crossed over to the futon, kneeling down and extending his hand. "Here. Drink this. It's Tessai's special blend. The herbs will help speed up the healing process." Urahara looked down, hiding his eyes beneath the brim of his striped hat. Ishida's fingers briefly touched his as he took the mug from his hand.

"It's almost light out," Urahara began. "I can send Jinta over to Orihime's flat to fetch her if you like-"

"-No." The response was immediate and flat. Urahara watched as Ishida stared solemnly down into his tea mug. Those intense blue eyes lifted and met his over the rim. "That is...I would not have you disturb her so early," he added in a more gentle tone.

"But Ishida, she can do so much more for you than I can."

The Quincy shook his head. "No. Not until after school, at least."

Urahara's head snapped up. "You are _not_ going to school in your current condition."

"Of course I'm going to school," said Ishida, the statement as obvious to him as the green stripes on Urahara's hat.

"I see. You're being as stubborn as ever," said Urahara, clucking his tongue. The shopkeeper clasped his hands together beneath his long sleeves, sighed, and said, "You know, Ishida, it is okay to accept help every now and then. You don't have to do everything yourself. You can rest once in awhile."

"Are you about to lecture me now, Urahara?"

"-Yes! As a matter of fact, I am," Urahara hissed, cutting him off. He turned a stony glare onto the teenager and was pleased to see him shrink back into his pallet. Urahara could, if the need suited him, come across as the friendly, bumbling shopkeeper, but there was also a darker, more calculating side to him. There was another man inside of him; namely, the shinigami who used to interrogate prisoners in the citadel for the pleasure of the stealth force. A man of limited conscious, with a razor-sharp tongue and steely convictions and darkly inventive mind. That was a man you didn't cross or try to verbally joust with. Not in the way that Ishida wanted to. The boy didn't have the skill.

"You do realize you have friends that are more than willing to go on hollow slaying missions with you. Sado. Orihime. It doesn't have to be a solo mission every time."

"I prefer to do it myself," Ishida muttered defensively.

"And do you _prefer_ to die in the process? What would Kurosaki think?"

Ishida narrowed his eyes at the mention of Ichigo's name. "Leave Ichigo out of this."

"No. I will not," Urahara stated flatly. "Is that why you've been pushing yourself so hard lately? Because you feel some sort of misplaced responsibility when it comes to filling Kurosaki's shoes? You think because the two of you are together, it has to be you and you alone to do it?"

Ishida ducked his head. "No. That's not it. Not entirely."

"Then please-by all means, enlighten me!"

"It hurts," Ishida croaked out, and Urahara realized he wasn't speaking about his wounds. "I remember what it was like...the feeling of powerlessness...I know _exactly_ what it feels like...and how much it hurts. And I can't stand seeing Ichigo going through the same thing. It kills me to know he feels it."

"But Ishida," said Urahara gently. "You cannot assume he feels that way. Kurosaki is not you. In fact, I would say he has adjusted very well to the...change."

Ishida's eyes slid off to the side, as blue and as sharp as sapphires. "Then you're a fool," he whispered indignantly.

"A very old fool, on that point we both agree. But you're making assumptions. Has Kurosaki told you that he feels...unworthy or useless...without his powers?"

"No," Ishida admitted.

"See. Then you're making assumptions. You're projecting your feelings onto his. And it needs to stop."

"No, I don't want to stop!" said Ishida with a wave of his hand. "I want...I want to do this for him."

"But Ishida, you're pushing yourself too hard. Kurosaki has told me that you're senior class president this year. And that you're in charge of the craft club now. And you have all your college entrance exams."

"I can handle it, Urahara."

"No, you can't 'handle it.' You didn't handle it last night when you made that stupid mistake and nearly got yourself killed." Urahara watched Ishida's gaze slip to the floor in mortification. "The Ishida I know doesn't usually make simple strategical errors like that," Urahara continued with a more considerate tact. "Face it, you're tired. You're stressed out."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes. Yes, you are. Kurosaki told me you got into a fight on the school grounds the other day. That you actually broke a guy's nose. That does not sound like the level-headed Ishida I know. That actually sounds more like an impulsive, hot-headed Strawberry whom we both know and love."

A slither of a smile curled Ishida's lips. "Actually, the fight was rather...nice."

Urahara's eyebrows crawled up into his hat like a pair of retreating silkworms. "Nice? You're describing a schoolyard fight as...nice?"

Ishida had the sense to look embarrassed. "Uhm, well, yes. Because Ichigo, he came out and fought with me. Back to back. Just like we used to do." A kaleidoscope of memories swirled in the Quincy's eyes, brightening them to the hue of a summer sky. Urahara just laughed and shook his head. "You are a strange one," he admitted.

Ishida narrowed his eyes again, unsure whether or not the remark was supposed to be a compliment or a criticism. He seemed to consider things for a moment before saying. "I'm sorry, sensei. I should not be contesting you. Not after what you did for me last night."

Urahara's eyes met his across the cold light of the morning. "No need to thank me, Ishida. I am only doing what I am bound to do."

"Bound to do?"

Urahara shifted and looked guiltily at the ground. "It was no mistake that I found you last night when I did. You see, I have been...sort of keeping an eye on you. At a certain someone's request, of course."

Understanding dawned like the light of an early morning sun over Ishida's face. Ishida nodded. "Ichigo asked you to watch me?"

"He did," Urahara admitted. "He knew...well, he knows you are not as strong as he once was-"

"-Now wait a minute!"

Urahara held up a hand. "No. Stop. Don't argue. Not when what he says is true. You are a spectacular tactician Ishida and that is your greatest strength. You quietly observe your enemies, pick out their weaknesses, and exploit them to your advantage. You are good at that. But when it comes to raw power, you are not Ichigo. You don't have what he once had. You just don't. So don't argue the point."

"It's still unfair. He should not doubt me in that way. Not so much that he feels he must have me followed."

"I wasn't following you," Urahara interjected.

Ishida arched an eyebrow. "No? Then how did you know where I was last night?"

That guilty look was back on Urahara's face again, an expression he couldn't quite seem to control. "Do you remember that cell phone I gave you?" he asked.

"Yes." In response, Ishida took the simple flip phone out of his pocket.

"Well, you see, it's not just a phone. Or a hollow detector. It also has a sort of GPS on there that tracks other...reiatsu."

"_Other _reiatsu? You mean _my _reiatsu." This time it was Urahara who had the good sense to look embarrassed.

The sheepish-looking shopkeeper added, "I only did it because Ichigo asked me to. And I couldn't deny this one simple request from my former pupil. Not after everything that has happened to him." Urahara raised his eyes to Ishida's, those dark orbs pleading with him for understanding.

Ishida dropped his gaze back into his tea mug. "I won't say I'm not angry. Because part of me definitely is. But I also..."

"Yes?"

"Well, I can't fault you for doing as Ichigo asked. Not if...not if it means that much to him."

A strange look came over Urahara's face. "Ishida, it means _everything_ to him. Don't you know that?"

And Urahara could tell, by the look of near surprise on Ishida's face, that he understood by 'it' he meant 'him.'

_To be continued..._

_I would like to send a special shout-out to my editor, Jorgmund Piper, for always being available and willing to slog through this stuff (and help keep it all in line)! You have my eternal thanks! *blows kiss*_


	4. Chapter 3: Accusations

_Sorry about the late update. I rarely go more than 1-2 weeks without updating, but the combination of my own laziness and my editor being on vacation slowed this one down (and I will not post without a proper edit). Anyway, here's the next part. Enjoy!_

"The Consolers of the Lonely"

Chapter 3:

Accusations (Spoken and Unspoken)

There was nothing left of the rain except for a dense morning fog, thick as a ball of cotton, wrapping itself snug as a blanket around Urahara's shop. Urahara stared out the window at the retreating figure of Uryuu Ishida, the white of his clothes blending into the ghostly mist, rendering him almost invisible. He noted the pained, stiff way he walked, and he shook his head, his blank face never once betraying his inner thoughts. _Ishida, you really should have stayed in bed. You need more time to recuperate from this. Why is it you never listen? _Urahara watched the teenager get swallowed up by the fog, the glossy raven's wing of his hair no longer visible from his vantage point. Only when he was completely gone did Urahara turn away from the window.

_Ichigo, you did us both a disservice by asking me to watch over him. _Urahara sighed and bent down to take away the abandoned tea tray. His eyes fell on a white towel, still streaked with blood from last night, and he picked that up too. For some reason his thoughts were cast back several years, to that night in the clearing with Aizen, when he showed up too late to save his lieutenant from being swept up in that insane monster's hollowfication experiment. _Always too late, Kisuke. _ _Always_. _And why is that? _Urahara gritted his teeth as he stared regretfully at the blood stained towel. _You should have been paying closer attention, Kisuke. You were not minding your charge as promised,_ his conscience chided him in an accusing voice.

"Too much temptation," Urahara muttered under his breath as he took the tray and towel and left the room. Urahara knew the real reason he hadn't been paying attention to Ishida: he had been fastidiously avoiding the young Quincy and the forbidden attraction he represented. _And it almost cost him his life, _his guilt-ridden inner voice taunted him. _But I have been doing what I promised, _he mentally responded._ Even though it hurts me. Even though it kills me to be near such beauty and never touch, never taste, never have...this wanting is a burden sent to test me, I know, but I am not sure I am up to the test. Why, Ichigo, why? Why do you always have to put your faith in me?_

_ Because you always come through in the end, _whispered the annoying little voice inside. Urahara walked down the hallway with a bowed back, a signifier of the weight of his own conscience, his guilt as heavy as the morning mist pressing insistently against the windows. _I didn't want to get too close, _he mentally answered himself. _And because of that, because of my own subconscious actions, I caused Ishida grave injury. I cannot afford to be so distant in the future. It is far too dangerous._

_Ah, but which is more dangerous? Being too distant or too close? _asked the chiding voice inside of him.

Urahara ignored the implications of this question and set about putting the dirty dishes into the sink to wash.

* * *

><p>The bell had not yet rung for homeroom. Keigo, Mizuiro, and Ichigo sat in a cluster in the back of the class, gathered in a semicircle around Mizuiro's desk. The smaller boy was showing off the new android phone he'd just gotten, his fingers flicking rapidly across the screen as he rattled off the names of various games and apps. "Hey, let me see that," said Keigo as he made an unsuccessful grab for the phone. Mizuiro leaned far back in his chair and held it out of reach.<p>

"You're not looking up porn on my new phone in class," Mizuiro stated flatly. Ichigo snickered as Keigo attempted a second swipe at the phone.

"I wasn't gonna look up porn," whined Keigo. He turned and eyed Orihime with a mischievous look. "I was gonna use the camera on it."

A book promptly flew across the room and hit Keigo on the back of the head. Keigo swivelled around in his chair. "Hey! Who did that?"

Tatsuki stood up from her desk, hands on hips. "You even think about coming anywhere near Orihime with that camera phone and I will knock you into next Saturday. Got it?"

Keigo shrank in his desk. "Is it me, or has Tatsuki gotten even scarier now that she's a teacher at her karate dojo?"

"You should leave well enough alone. Unless you want to end up a dead man," advised Ichigo.

"Speaking of dead men," said Keigo. "Here comes Ishida. And wow, does he ever look-"

"-Pissed," Mizuiro finished for him. Ichigo turned around, the grin on his face wilting like a flower in a simmering hot sun when he saw Ishida's unhappy expression. The Quincy marched right up to the former soul reaper and said in a flat voice, "You and I need to talk." Ishida nodded toward the doorway, and Ichigo, looking dumbstruck, got up and followed him out into the hall. Behind him, Keigo chanted gratingly, "Somebody's in the doghouse," in a sing-song voice.

Ichigo stepped into the hallway, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Hey, what's the matter with-"

"-Did you ask Urahara to secretly keep watch on me at night?" Ishida asked him point-blank, cutting off Ichigo's sentence.

Ichigo just blinked. "Well?" prompted Ishida. "Did you or didn't you? And don't even think about lying, because I already know the answer."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "If you already know the answer, then why bother asking?"

"Because, Ichigo," Ishida began, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth with the effort. "It bothers me when you keep secrets. Not to mention it's an insult-"

"-To your Quincy pride. Yey, I got it."

"No, you don't 'get it.' When you're in a relationship with someone, you communicate with them. You tell them things. You don't go behind their backs and-"

"-Hey, wait a minute! Just how did you find out about me asking Urahara to keep an eye on you? He wouldn't have just come out and told you. There's no way you could have found out unless..." It was as if a light had suddenly been switched on in a darkened room as the teenager's eyes widened with renewed understanding. "Something bad happened, didn't it? Something that required Urahara's intervention?" Now it was Ichigo's turn to look pissed. "What's going on with you, Uryuu? Did something happen last night? Tell me!" Ichigo reached out to touch the Quincy's shoulder, only to have him hiss and shrink back. Anger melted away into concern as Ichigo's eyes softened. "You've been hurt, haven't you? You've been...injured."

Ishida shook his head. "It's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" said Ichigo, his voice climbing in volume. "Oh, really? Let me see."

"What? No!" said Ishida, shrinking further back. "I'm not stripping down in front of the entire school-"

"-Ishida-kun? Kurosaki-kun?" Both boys turned to see Orihime standing in the doorway, a look of deep concern on her face. Her eyes flicked back and forth between them like the disconcerting eyes of a kit-kat clock. "Is everything alright? You were both so loud-"

"-Everything's fine, Inoue," gritted Ishida. "Ichigo and I are having a... small disagreement."

Ichigo cast Ishida an incredulous look. He seemed on the verge of renewing the argument when the bell suddenly rang, signalling the start of class. Sensei came marching down the hallway, school books in hand. "What are you two doing hovering outside?" she asked suspiciously. "The morning bell has sounded; go to your seats!"

"Excuse me, sensei, but Ishida is ill and needs to go to the infirmary," said Ichigo.

"What?! I'm not ill! I-"

"-No, he's really sick," pressed Ichigo. "In fact, I think it would be wise if Inoue accompanied him to the nurse."

"I would be happy to escort Ishida-kun to the infirmary," Orihime piped up, her kind, helpful nature making it easy for her to ignore the pointedly irritated look on Ishida's face.

Sensei rolled her eyes and shook her head in frustration. "Fine! Orihime-take Ishida to the nurse's station. And you, Kurosaki-go to your seat!"

"Yes, sensei," said Ichigo, casting Ishida a smug, triumphant look. Orihime tugged at Ishida's elbow, even as Ishida continued to glare daggers into Ichigo's retreating back.

"This conversation isn't finished, you know!" Ishida yelled at the empty doorway, even as he allowed himself to be led away by Orihime.

"You got that right," answered a tiny voice from inside the classroom.

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 4: Vow and Duty

_This chapter is shorter, but on the upside, it's here quicker...:)_

"The Consolers of the Lonely"

Chapter 4:

Vow and Duty

Orihime's oxfords echoed hollowly on the hallway tiles as she struggled to keep up with an obviously miffed Ishida. After a few moments of heavily charged silence, she finally said, "Ishida-kun?"

"What?" Ishida didn't stop but continued his angry stalk towards the nurse's station.

"Ishida-kun, please stop a moment."

The strained note in her voice gave Ishida pause, and he turned around to face her. There was an element of fear in her wide eyes that Ishida had seen before, an expression he was altogether too familiar with: eyebrows turned up into anxious little question marks and a slight but unmistakable quivering in the lips. It was the look she got whenever Ichigo got injured in a fight, or was about to get into a fight of any kind (for that matter). It was the face of worry, fear, anxiety, and helplessness. Only this time it was directed at him.

"Ishida-kun, you've been hurt."

"Wha-"

"-I noticed you were limping when you came into class." Ishida raised an eyebrow. Perhaps Orihime's powers of observation were much sharper than he'd previously thought. _It's because she cares so much about her friends. Their well-being is her only thought, her only concern in life. _Ishida's hard sapphire eyes softened a bit behind their sharp, square frames. "I...I had a little trouble with a hollow last night," he finally admitted.

Orihime nodded, her suspicions verbally confirmed. "Please-let me help you, Ishida-kun. Let's continue on to the nurse's station. I can draw the curtain around one of the beds, and I can heal you properly there." She paused and added: "Ichigo would want me to do this. That's the reason he said those things to sensei."

"Tch."

"You seem a...little angry, Ishida-kun. Forgive me for asking this, but is...is everything alright between you and Kurosaki-kun?"

Ishida pushed his glasses up his nose and turned away. Then he said, in a small, tired voice, "As I said before, Ichigo and I are having a small disagreement. But it's really nothing for you to worry about, Inoue."

"But small disagreements can turn into big ones if you don't talk them out. And forgive me for pointing this out, but you also seem to be a little stressed out lately. Or rather, a lot. You should let Sado-kun and I aid you in your hollow-hunting duties more often."

Ishida let out a bark of ironic laughter. "Now you sound just like Urahara."

"Oh? Has Urahara-sensei said something about it? Perhaps you should listen to him, then; he is a smart man," Orihime ventured. And if Ishida hadn't known better, he would have almost said there was a slyness to her tone, an unmistakable air of calculation.

But Ishida could never accuse Inoue of being calculating. He could never be mean to her in any way. Her innate kindness, her goodness, made it impossible for him to rant and rage and act all offended. Not like he normally would, not like he did with everyone else. She had a way of disarming his prickly nature, of melting away his sharp edges. So when he answered her, it was with a softer, more placating tone. "Perhaps you're right," he sighed. "Perhaps I should-"

Ishida abruptly stopped talking, his head jerking as if on puppet strings towards the window. "What is it, Ishida-kun?" Orihime asked anxiously. Without a word, Ishida stalked over to the window, pulled up the sash, and slung one leg over the sill.

"It's a hollow," he said, before slipping like rain down from the window sill and landing silently on the ground. He ignored Orihime's pleas of, "Ishida-kun, wait! Let me fetch Sado-kun! Wait!"

But Ishida, of course, did not-could not-wait. He had a duty to fulfill. So he was off and running toward an overwhelmingly strong reiatsu, his limbs silently screaming in angry protest as his wounds made their presence known anew. He had an image in his head-an image of a shadowy figure standing atop a shifting dune, tendrils of black hair snaking around its head like curling flutes of smoke under pale moonlight. _"Be there for him, Uryuu. Be there for him when I am gone..." _That voice, so soft coming from a creature so sharp, so undeniably powerful; his remembered form was like a specter from a dream. _But he's not here anymore. Not any longer._ Ichigo was no longer a soul reaper and now it was up to Ishida to take his place. He had to do it. He had made a promise.

_I must do this. For Ichigo. I can't stop now. _In the back of Ishida's mind another tiny but more reasonable voice whispered a cool warning of restraint. Calm and logical, it said: _You always push yourself past your limits, Uryuu. Have you learned nothing from your past battles? You don't always have to sacrifice yourself in order to win. Pride is ephemeral, yet you are real-you are a living, physical being. You don't have to kill yourself over something as empty and elusive as air._

Ishida, stubborn and prideful to the core, ignored the quiet pleas of this other voice. He looped around the width of the soccer field, leaving the school grounds to jog up the street into the city proper. He whipped past shop fronts and offices and bus stops and small, enclosed gardens. He wanted to use Hirenkyaku in order to get to the hollow faster, but his diminished reiatsu begged for restraint. He knew he needed to conserve his energy for the fight. His stupid mistake from the previous night had knocked his spirit energy for a loop, and it had yet to fully recover.

The gray, overcast sky was filled with a flock of pregnant rain clouds. Despite the drop in temperature, Ishida was sweating beneath his school uniform. His senses tingled as felt the presence of the hollow growing stronger. He was shocked when he rounded the street corner and came face-to-face with the same half-completed building from last night.

"This place again," Ishida muttered irritably under his breath. He pushed his glasses up his nose and cautiously entered the construction site, the soggy ground causing moist suction beneath his now muddy shoes. Ishida wandered in complete silence beneath the web-like scaffolding, his senses on red alert for the slightest shift in spirit energy. Thunder rumbled off in the distance quietly like the grumbly stomach of a hungry giant, but everything else was dead silent. He crept along until he heard a small _snickt! _and he whirled around suddenly, a feeling like a small fire spreading down from the back of his neck to the fresh scars on his back: pulling him, claiming him, debilitating him. Ishida felt his limbs turn into liquid as the fire continued to trail down his body, the engulfing flames pulling him down with an incalculable weight, an insurmountable heaviness. Down, down, he sank as he was drawn into a black shimmering whirlpool of nothingness. Down into a gaping, empty void where no sight, no sound, no touch, no smell, no hope could reach him.

And above, up in the web of steel scaffolding, a hollow roared into the air as Ishida fell to the ground, the darkness claiming him for a second time...

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 5: Family Matters

_A/N: A reviewer asked if I was going to incorporate the fullbringer plot into this, so this is a good time to address that. The answer is yes, but don't expect it to play out exactly as it did in the actual story. If I did that, then Ishida would spend 90% of the time sitting in the hospital, relegated to the position of plot point (and it would suck to have everybody's favorite Quincy out of action for that long, am I right?). I'm going to use aspects of the fullbringer plot, but for an altered story of my own creation. I'm pre-warning everyone now so all the canon-bangers don't pm me saying, "Hey, you know that didn't happen like that, right?" Yes, I know. And I'm purposefully changing it. Because otherwise, it wouldn't be any fun for me, creatively speaking. I have to be free to come up with my own drama, even in fan fiction. So...now that's out of the way, let's get on with the show..._

"The Consolers of the Lonely"

Chapter 5:

Family Matters

There was a soft tapping sound in the distance, like the sound of popcorn popping or a fire crackling. It was this sound that Ishida noticed first upon waking. He was aware of it before he even opened his eyes, before he was truly aware that he was even awake. A sound like paper being crumpled up in somebody's hand, over and over again. Ishida shifted, moving experimentally, his whole body turning with agonizing slowness, as if his limbs were being held down by weights. He finally managed to roll over, only to have a pale gray light blind his eyes, causing him to squint against the unbearable brightness. Only it wasn't really all that bright. As his eyes began to focus, he found himself staring blearily out a large square window that framed a slate-filled sky. The tapping sound he had been hearing was the sound of hard rain pelting the glass. Ishida watched the drops fall indifferently, watched groggily as the spreading breath of fog slowly covered up the panes.

"You're finally awake, I see."

Ishida instinctively tensed at the sound of that voice. Without turning his head, he croaked under his breath, "Now I wish that hollow had eaten me."

"What a childish thing to say," the voice replied. "Well, keep doing what you're doing and I have no doubt that you'll soon have your wish." There was the sound of movement, a rustling of fabric. Ishida continued to stare placidly at the window even as its frame was filled with the ever-imposing outline of his father. Light reflected off the older man's glasses in the gloom, obscuring (what was no doubt) a disapproving look.

"How did I get here?" Ishida finally asked in a scratchy voice. "The last thing I remember, I was stalking a hollow through a construction site..."

Ryuken remained as still as a stone statue. "I have no idea. You were left on my doorstep like a sack of potatoes."

Ishida shifted, the pull of a thousand weights dragging at him. "What?"

"You heard me. You were left here. Like. A. Sack. Of. Potatoes."

Ishida pulled off his glasses and rubbed irritably at his eyes. It was only then that he noticed that he was hooked up to an IV, that he was hemmed in on either side by the metal guard rails of a hospital bed. Ishida replaced his glasses and looked all around. Looked at everything but his father.

"You know, these foolish notions of yours will eventually get you killed," Ryuken stated flatly.

Ishida squinted in the general direction of the window. "What do you mean, 'notions'?"

"This absurd idea that you have to take that former soul reaper's place and be responsible for slaying every hollow in Karakura town. It's absurd."

"Ichigo. You can say his name, you know."

"Tch."

Ishida decided that the last thing he wanted to do right now was argue with his father over Ichigo. Instead, he replied tersely, "And it's not absurd. The fact is, it has to be done."

"But not by_ you_._ You_ don't owe these pathetic Shinigami anything."

"Can we not go into the whole Shinigami versus Quincy thing?" Then Ishida added in a quieter voice, "Besides, it's not true. I do owe them."

Ryuken turned to face the window. The rain continued to rap noisily at the panes, the sound like a million tiny horses' hooves galloping along the glass. Ishida noted the tense set of the older man's shoulders; his father's irritation and disappointment were palpable. The air was saturated with it, thick and dense as the morning fog. After a moment, Ryuken said in a cool, regal voice:

"Your pride has fallen far, Uryuu. For you to admit such a thing. How very disappointing." Each sentence fell like a hammer of judgment, wounding Ishida with each strategically plotted blow. Ishida turned away from the window, wincing beneath his father's hurtful words. _Why do I always fall for his verbal traps? Why do I let his pronouncements affect me so? It's been years, I should be over it...and yet...somehow he still can make me feel like a stupid, helpless child with a mere sentence. Why does he get to me so much? Why can't I shake this horrible feeling of inadequacy in his presence? Where is my sense of control with him?_

There was the soft rustling of fabric again, the familiar whisper of Ryuken's expensive designer suit. Ishida refused to answer him again or look up. He expected his father would probably tell him he was being childish (again), but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was block out the older man's annoying presence.

Ishida heard the doorknob turn, heard the _click! _of the the bolt. Ishida looked over his shoulder to see Ryuken paused in the doorway. "Oh, and you might want to check that phone of yours," the older Quincy suggested. "It's been going off continuously since you arrived here." With that, Ryuken pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Ishida mercifully alone. The moment his father was out of sight, Ishida began digging around for the cell phone Urahara had given him. He finally spotted it on the bedside table, and he immediately lunged for it and began scrolling through the messages.

There were several. Mostly from Ichigo.

_HEY, R U STILL MAD AT ME? _

_U MUST STILL BE MAD, CUZ U WONT ANSWER._

_ORIHIME TOLD ME WHAT HAPPENED. IM JUST WORRIED. SO CALL ME, K?_

_U, WHERE R U?_

_R U STILL PISSED? R U IGNORING ME? PLEASE CALL._

_IM GOING TO MY JOB AFTER SCHOOL. JUST SO U KNOW. LET ME KNOW U GOT THIS. VERY WORRIED NOW._

_PLEASE ANSWER._

Ishida looked at the time on the phone. "Oh shit," he hissed. It was almost 4:30. School would have let out ages ago. He had been lying asleep in this hospital room for hours, oblivious to the passage of time. No wonder he had so many messages, each with a growing note of concern. "Shit!" he repeated, and began typing furiously into the phone.

_COMING TO U AT YOUR JOB. AM OK. WILL TALK THEN._

Ishida stared at the IV for only a moment before viciously yanking the needle out of his arm. He collapsed the metal railing, swung his legs around, stood up and-

-and immediately swayed against the bed, the room tilting at an alarming angle. He grabbed onto the mattress for support as the ceiling tiles did a small jig above him. Ishida went completely still, hoping the room would right itself. "Dammit," he muttered, his anger at the situation rising. There were many things he could overcome, but being drugged within an inch of consciousness wasn't one of them.

_I refuse to stay here, _he thought morosely to himself._ I don't care if I have to crawl out of this room on my hands and knees. The thought of having to be around Ryuken for a minute longer is unbearable. I refuse to let him continue to harangue me about my life choices. _Ishida began to inch experimentally along the bed's railing, letting go of it only when he was sure he could stand unaided. He staggered like a newborn foal over to the cupboard to look for his clothes-leaving the hospital in an open-back gown would not do. Ishida found his school uniform hanging up inside and he tore off the pale green gown, dragging the separate pieces of beige clothing on with slow, pained gestures. He slumped in a chair to put on his conspicuously clean shoes, his head hanging like a motionless crane over his knees. He thought back to the construction site, remembering the sensation of mud squishing beneath his feet. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he replayed the scene over and over again in his head. _Snicht! _ That sound, the burning sensation in his neck. Finally he muttered, "That bastard," and he stood up and walked, with considerable effort, out of the hospital room.

He had several visits to pay. He needed to get started.

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 6: Awkward Conversations

_This chapter was fighting me a bit, I guess to make up for how smoothly the previous chapter went. In any case, here it is, warts and all..._

"The Consolers of the Lonely"

Chapter 6:

Awkward Conversations

The white, antiseptic-looking hallway appeared to be deserted. The beige zig-zag pattern in the carpet moved like a nest of slithering snakes; the effect was unnerving. Luckily for Ishida, the floor remained level. The complete lack of noise was equally disconcerting: no nurses padding softly across the carpet, no mechanical whir of hospital equipment humming in the background, no overhead pages, nothing. Just...silence. Even the sound of pouring rain couldn't be heard in the windowless hallway. Ishida moved slowly, shakily forward. He had expected to be stopped by hospital personnel, but there was no one in sight. It was just him and a bunch of slithering snakes. "Stop it," Ishida muttered at the floor, at the snakes, at nothing at all. The snakes continued to dance on in silence, gleefully oblivious to his annoyance. Ishida crept cautiously forward until the hallway forked off into different directions. A lit exit sign overhead pointed to the left. Ishida turned to go that way but was instantly frozen into place by the sound of raucous laughter coming from the opposite corridor. Intrigued by the sound, Ishida instead turned right. He walked until he found himself standing in front of a single closed door. On it was a brass plaque just below eye level that read:

RYUKEN ISHIDA, MD, HOSPITAL ADMINISTRATOR

Ishida's right eyebrow shot up to his hairline as more laughter floated out into the hallway. From inside, two people could be heard talking:

_"I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself, you know."_

_"Tch, you would just work through lunch like you always do. You're such a workaholic, Ryuken. What would you do if I wasn't around to keep you from turning to skin and bones?"_

_ "My skin and bones are none of your concern."_

Ishida's eyes grew twice their size behind their clear square frames. The first voice coming from behind the door belonged to his father (obviously), but he was shocked to realize that the second voice belonged to Ichigo's father, Isshin Kurosaki. Curiosity piqued, Ishida bent his head closer to the door to listen.

More laughter followed. _"None of my concern, eh? And how long have I been bringing you lunch to this office now? Every day? For how long?"_

_ "Tch! It's not like I ask you to do this. I've never asked you to-"_

_ "-No, but you don't turn me away either. You like to rant and rave, just like you always do, but eventually you give in and eat what I bring you."_

_ "Because you wouldn't leave otherwise!"_

_ "Ah, excuse, excuses!"_

_ "And that hibachi you brought me yesterday was completely substandard. Just so you know."_

_ "Tch. Such expensive tastes."_

_ "Really, what else did you expect?"_

_ "Exactly what I got. But a little home cooking does the body good every now and then."_

_ "Not when it tastes like sewer rat."_

_ "There you go again with the insults. But they're not going to work, you know. I'm still not leaving."_

_ "Tch."_

_ "Really, Ryuken, when are you finally going to give in and admit that me bringing you lunch is the best part of your day?"_

Silence. Then:

_ "Such utter conceit."_

_ "Yes, but it's well deserved."_

_ "What rubbish! Go on, take your plebeian meal and get out of here."_

_ "You don't really mean that."_

_ "Maybe I do."_

_ "No, you don't."_

Another long pause. Then:

_ "Fine. So what manner of barely edible sustenance have you brought today?"_

More laughter echoed from inside the room, the sound as bright and brassy as a church bell.

Ishida leaned away from the door as if it had gone searing hot. He couldn't believe his ears. His father and Ichigo's father were in there together...doing...

_What exactly? _finished an exasperated little voice in his head. _Having lunch? That's not a crime, you know. It doesn't mean anything._

_ But their conversation...it was far too familiar. Almost flirtatious._

_ You're reading too much into this, _the voice cautioned him.

_No, I'm not, _he responded. Isshin words, "_When are you going to give in and admit that my bringing you lunch is the best part of your day?" _replayed in his mind. _No, I'm not imagining things, _though Ishida. _ There is definitely something going on between them. _Ishida's mind raced back to a conversation that had taken place several months ago, where Ichigo had casually told him about how his father and Ishida's had supposedly dated back when they were both younger. The whole thing had allegedly ended in a spectacular break-up. Ishida found himself horrified by the prospect of it happening all over again.

_Now who's being judgemental? _asked the snarky little voice in his head.

_Shut up, _grumbled Ishida. _It's not the same thing._

_ Oh? And why not? _asked the voice.

_ Because he doesn't deserve him. _With that last thought in his head, Ishida turned away from the door and headed back in the direction of the exit sign.

* * *

><p>The sky had turned the color of soot. Fortunately for Ishida, the rain had tapered off into a light drizzle, the clouds spitting out just enough moisture to be annoying. Traffic along the street had doubled since he had been out earlier; the cars and buses were whizzing by him in a psychedelic blur of rainbow colors. Ishida realized it must now be after 5 o'clock. He took his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. Zero messages. He was surprised that there was nothing from Ichigo, considering the barrage of texts he had received earlier. <em>Maybe he's the one who's really pissed off, <em>he thought. _And he's purposefully ignoring me._ _Or maybe that crazy boss of his doesn't allow him to leave his phone on at work. _Both explanations seemed equally plausible.

Ishida passed by a convenience store. The smell of hot food wafted out, causing his stomach to grumble insistently. He ignored his hunger and kept on walking. Despite the blur in his vision and the lingering weakness in his limbs, he was determined to get to the Unagiya shop. He had to talk to Ichigo. He had to settle things between them.

_Settle things? Really? _asked the annoying voice inside his head. _Do you really plan on making peace or are you just going to resume the fight you were having this morning?_

_ I'm tired of fighting, _Ishida mentally, wearily, answered himself. _I've had enough verbal sparring for one day. I just want to curl up with Ichigo on that ridiculously narrow bed of his and have him feed me some of his sister's leftovers. That's all I want right now. Is that so wrong?_

_ Your pride has fallen far, Uryuu. For you to admit such a thing. _This time it was his father's cold, condescending voice that answered him. Ishida gritted his teeth, his jaw automatically tightening in response. Even when Ryuken wasn't around, his hurtful words still had the ability to haunt him.

_Shut up, old man. What do you know about love? _Ishida thought back to the conversation he'd overheard at the hospital. He could practically hear the bright, cheery sound of Isshin's laughter echoing through his psyche.

_Perhaps more than you think, _his father's voice replied insinuatingly. Refusing to contemplate such a repulsive idea, Ishida turned his thoughts back to the task of finding Ichigo. In answer, the lighted sign of the Unagiya shop came blinking into view, a hazy beacon in the gloomy, falling mist.

Ishida carefully made his way up the wooden steps and banged on the door. A brash, female voice from inside yelled, "Who is it?" Before Ishida could actually answer, the door flew open, revealing a tall, older woman wearing a brown cap and purple and white t-shirt. Her eyes narrowed. "You look too young to be a client." The door started to swing shut, but Ishida grabbed hold of it, saying, "Wait! I'm looking for Ichigo Kurosaki."

The door suddenly whipped back open and Ishida almost fell across the threshold. "You mean that lazy, work-ditching employee of mine?" said the woman in the cap. "Why?"

Ishida scrambled for words. "It's...it's important that I talk to him. Do you know where he is right now?"

"I know where he's _supposed_ to be," said the woman. "But when I went to check on him, he had ditched his responsibilities. As usual." The woman made an annoyed scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

Ishida blinked. "So...you don't know where he is?"

Another annoyed sound came out of the woman's throat. "Damned if I know. I really oughtta fire his lazy ass. He was supposed to be painting the inside of Mr. Akiyama's garage today, but instead I saw him out getting noodles with some guy I think was his boyfriend."

Ishida went perfectly still. A strange feeling swept over his body, like someone had snuck up behind him and thrown a pail of ice water over his head. "His...boyfriend? Why did you think that?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "He looked the way Ichigo had described him. Pale complexion, longish black hair, wearing a cross. Damned if I can remember what he said the guy's name was, though. In any case, they looked very chummy, so I just assumed...Hey! Where are you going?"

Ishida was already walking back down the steps. "Since you don't where Ichigo is, I guess I'll go look for him elsewhere," Ishida answered tonelessly.

"Hey, do you want me to give him some sort of message if I see him?"

Ishida paused halfway down the steps. He seemed to consider this, but then said, "No. No message."

And with that, Ishida continued limping down the steps, disappearing off into the darkening mist.

_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 7: Awkward Conversations II

_Thank you all for your continuing support! Reviews are a great motivator to push forward, even when I feel lazy or distracted or uninspired. They help so much! So, thanks again to all who have contributed input! Words alone cannot properly express my gratitude, though as you can see, I do try...:)_

"The Consolers of the Lonely"

Chapter 7:

Awkward Conversations II

The sweet, calming scent of jasmine wafted through the kitchen of the Urahara shop. There was the low hush of a boiling kettle, the cheerful music of wooden wind chimes swaying languidly in the breeze. The sky outside was fading to the color of an old bruise, deep and purple and mottled. Inside the kitchen Tessai bustled back and forth from counter to stovetop, his large hands working methodically. "Is it almost ready?" Urahara asked from his place at the kitchen table, a note of complaint in his voice. His fan fluttered lazily in front of his face.

"Patience," muttered Tessai. "Oolong tea has to be prepared just so, or you won't feel the proper benefits."

"I'd rather feel the benefit of that rice hitting my stomach," Urahara remarked testily.

"Hmph. And what's put you in such a mood this evening?" asked Tessai, turning around to place a steaming bowl of rice on the low round table before Urahara.

Urahara glanced down with agitation at the cell phone he had left sitting on the table top. The fan fluttered faster. "Nothing," he muttered. He refolded the fan and took up his chopsticks, digging into the bowl of rice before the tea was done. Tessai gave him a disapproving look.

The kettle trumpeted merrily, and Tessai removed it from the stove, pouring its contents into two tall green mugs. He glanced up at the window and said over his shoulder, "Kisuke, there's someone coming up the walkway. Do you want me to go out and tell them we're closed? It is dinner time, after all."

"That won't be necessary, Tessai. This visit is not entirely unexpec-"

There was a loud banging on the door. "Urahara! Open up! I know you're in there!"

Tessai and Urahara just looked at each other, and Urahara shrugged and got up and went to the door. He barely had it open a crack before Ishida burst through, with the force and demeanor of a cold winter wind. His manner may have been icy but there was fire raging in his blue eyes as he said accusingly, "I can't believe what you did to me this morning! You had no right-"

"-Tessai, will you excuse us for a moment?" Urahara interrupted calmly. Tessai picked up his mug from the counter and drifted out of the room, shooting Urahara a questioning look as he went. Once he was gone, Urahara turned back to Ishida and said dryly, "Please, do continue."

This response seemed to inflame the young Quincy even more. "You had no right! No right to stop me from pursuing that hollow this morning! And don't try to lie and say it wasn't you. This has your mark all over it! It's sneaky, underhanded-"

"-prudent, resourceful, and most importantly, successful," Urahara finished for him. The vein at Ishida's temple pulsed with anger. Urahara watched it move in fascination.

"I don't consider what you did to be a 'success' under any definition," Ishida countered coldly.

Urahara snapped open his fan and fluttered it in front of his face. "You don't? Well, let's see. I kept you from further injuring yourself, and I managed to slay a rather nasty hollow. I would label that a success."

"And leaving me with my father after! That was...that was...The. Worst. Idea. Ever."

"Was it? I thought I was being rather practical. Your father is the best doctor in the city, after all. That fact remains, no matter what else you may think of him. And my going to him required no kind of explanation. Plus, he is your kin-"

"-That man is no kin of mine!" Ishida hissed in response.

"Really? That's interesting, because you sound _just_ like him right now."

Hesitation flickered in the young Quincy's eyes. _Well, that at least got through to him, _thought Urahara. _Even though it was a cheap shot. _A loaded silence filled the room. Finally, Urahara put away his fan and gestured at the table. "I was just having something to eat," he said cheerfully. "Would you care to join me?"

Ishida's stomach answered for him and with enthusiasm. Embarrassment washed over the teenager's face. "I'm sorry. I haven't eaten all day," he muttered absentmindedly.

"Well then, you must have something!" Urahara waved him to a seat. Ishida flopped down in it like a rag doll that had been drained of its stuffing, his shoulders sagging forward in an attitude of defeat. Urahara felt a burst of sympathy for him. The young Quincy was obviously having a rather bad day.

"Would you like some tea as well?" Urahara asked solicitously. Ishida merely nodded, his face turning as red as a summer sunset.

"Something the matter?" Urahara inquired innocently as he poured a mug of tea for Ishida.

The Quincy squirmed in his seat. "It's just that...well...I came here and started yelling at you and your response is...to offer me food and drink."

Urahara smiled beneath his hat. "You had a right to yell. After all, what I did was, er...what did you say? Sneaky and underhanded_._"

Ishida grimaced at the use of his own words. "I'm sorry, sensei. I should not have said those things. I'm a little...out of sorts today."

Urahara shook his head and placed a bowl of rice before the archer. Ishida picked up his chopsticks and began plowing greedily into the bowl. This behavior, Urahara noted, lacked the Quincy's usual restraint and grace. Urahara raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He went back to his seat and took up his own chopsticks. Several minutes ticked by as the two ate in complete silence.

Ishida finally put his chopsticks aside, staring into the bottom of his now empty bowl as if it contained ancient ciphers of great import. He seemed to struggle with himself before saying, somewhat hesitantly, "May I ask you something, sensei?"

Urahara's chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth. "Of course."

Ishida's inner struggle was written in the deepening crease of his brow, the shadowed horizontal lines that grew longer as his lips were pulled into a severe frown. "Does Ichigo...does he ever talk to you at all?"

Urahara lowered his chopsticks. "Since the change? No, not really."

Ishida winced a bit at his response. _Since the change. _There was no need to explain what 'the change' meant.

Ishida continued: "You said you thought that I was overdoing it. That perhaps...that perhaps I had too much going on with school and hollow hunting and everything. Tell me, do you think..."

Ishida trailed off. Urahara waited. After several seconds had passed, he softly prompted him, "Do I think what?"

Ishida's face was slowly turning red again. "Do you think I've been neglecting him? Ichigo, I mean. Do you think maybe he feels like...like I don't give him enough attention? With everything else I've got going on?"

Urahara looked slightly taken aback by this remark. He blinked, unsure of how to answer. "I don't know Ishida. As I said, Ichigo and I don't talk much anymore."

"Because I think maybe I have been ignoring him," Ishida said guiltily. It was like a dam had burst open, and the young archer went on speaking in a tsunami-like crush of words. "I mean, being senior class president has a lot of responsibilities, you know-meetings after school, organizing events, voting on new policies and everything. And craft club. I volunteered to help sew the costumes for the school play this year, and it's been taking up so much of my time. There are so many bias cut dresses with intricate details to them. I mean, I love doing them, the stitching is a real challenge, and I enjoy it, but it is _very_ time consuming. Do you know how difficult a bias cut is to stitch?"

Urahara just blinked like a round, snowy owl. "Uhm, no-"

"-It's hard! It takes a lot of concentration and delicacy and skill. Tch, I don't why I volunteered, I mean, I had so much responsibility already. I don't know why I said yes. I think you might be right. I overdo things and I don't think about the consequences-"

"-Uhm, Ishida-"

"And then there's my college entrance exams and my essays. I plan on studying pre-med and I have three possible colleges in play and what if I'm not good enough to get into any of them-"

"-Uh, Ishida-"

"-It's no wonder Ichigo doesn't think I have enough time for him. Because I don't. I'm a horrible boyfriend. It's been all about me, me, me. And then I had to go and start that stupid fight with him this morning-"

"-Ishida, you're rambling!"

Ishida fell silent. He had been leaning over the table, staring into his empty rice bowl, simply talking, talking, talking. Urahara had the impression that this was the most talking the usually reserved teenager had done in months. Perhaps years. Urahara put on a sympathetic face. "I think perhaps you're blowing things out of proportion," he said gently.

"Am I?"

"And why are you suddenly saying all these things about Ichigo? Has he told you that he feels neglected or something?"

"No, but..."

"But what? Has something happened between the two of you?"

Ishida squirmed in his seat. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Finally, he said, "No, not exactly..."

"Then what is it, exactly?"

Silence. Ishida stood up from the table. "Nevermind. I need to go."

"But Ishida!"

"Thank you for the food. Good-bye." The cold, flat tone was back in his voice, along with the familiar icy reserve in those hard sapphire eyes._ So_ _distant. So unapproachable. _Urahara bolted up from the table, concern creasing the lines of his face. "Ishida, wait!"

But Ishida was already leaving, an unexpected blast of night air sending chilling gusts of cold through the shop as he pried open the front door. Urahara went after him, only to have the door unceremoniously slammed in his face.

Urahara stood there for several stunned moments, staring at the closed door. Then he turned and walked slowly back to his kitchen. He sank back down in his place at the table. Tessai came barreling through the doorway, a perplexed expression on his face. "What was that all about?" he asked tersely.

Urahara just shook his his head, his fan fluttering limply before him. Then he said quietly:

"Honestly, I have no idea..."

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 8: Love Interruption

_Happy un-Valentine's Day, ya'll...:)_

"The Consolers of the Lonely"

Chapter 8:

Love Interruption

The moonless night draped itself in wispy blankets of impenetrable mist. Pale, snake-like tendrils curled around the lamp posts, slithered along the grass and licked at the grooves in the sidewalks. Distant lights were small and dull and faintly winking, like tiny fireflies laboring wearily in the dark. All was damp and murky and drearily silent. Ishida followed the Hansel and Gretel trail of hazy yellow lamp posts until he stood before the Kurosaki residence. It was late, but a brightly lit square still burned promisingly in the upstairs window. _ Ichigo's room._ A shadow passed across it, temporarily blocking out the light, and Ishida felt his breath catch in his throat at its familiar outline. Ignoring the dull pain throbbing in his limbs (whatever pain killer his father had given him had worn off hours ago), Ishida summoned what little spirit energy he could muster and leapt onto the tiled awning, scrabbling gracelessly for a hold on Ichigo's window sill. He held onto it like it was a lifeline and he was a drowning man. With effort, he pushed up at the glass, but it refused to budge. Ishida's arms began to shake as he struggled to maintain his grip on the ledge. He pushed at the glass again, but it still refused to move. The trembling in his limbs grew worse. _This is ridiculous, _he thought. _Am I really too weak to open a simple window? What if I fall and end up making a scene on Ichigo's front lawn? What an embarrassment. My pride will never recover. _Ishida's fingers gripped the bottom of the sash until they turned white and he pushed as hard as he could. Nothing moved. He was about to give up and jump back down when the window suddenly flew open and two hands reached out and grabbed him and pulled him inside.

"Uryuu, what the hell are you doing out there?"

Ishida found himself standing in the warm interior of Ichigo's room, with Ichigo holding him up like some kind of stray cat he had randomly found on his doorstep. The lure of those arms was too tempting to resist, and Ishida let himself sag forward, forcing Ichigo to stagger back under the burden of his full weight. Ishida didn't look up at his face but he could hear the slight alarm in Ichigo's voice when he said: "Whoa! Careful now! You know, Uryuu, you could have just used the front door like a normal person."

"It was late, and I didn't want to disturb your family," Ishida muttered into his chest. Ishida let out a small sigh of relief as he felt Ichigo's bare arms encircle him. The whole of him melted into their warmth like a block of ice under the heat of a smoldering sun.

"C'mon, Uryuu," Ichigo said with a small laugh. "How long have we been together? Do you really think my family would care that you came over so late...especially if you really needed to."

Those words were a prompt for Ishida to start talking, but he wasn't ready to do that just yet. _Just hold me. Just stay like this. Don't ever move away. _Words he thought to himself privately but never dared to actually utter. It was alright, though, because Ichigo seemed to understand. He backed them both towards his bed and lowered them into its cushy folds. He sat with his back against the wall and kept Ishida curled awkwardly in his lap. Everything was mercifully quiet, except for an I-pod left playing in its dock, its speakers set low:

_I want love to_

_ Roll me over slowly_

_ Stick a knife inside me_

_ And twist it all around_

_ And I want love to_

_ Grab my fingers gently_

_ Slam them in a doorway_

_ Put my face into the ground_

_ I want love to_

_ walk right up and bite me_

_ Grab a hold of me and fight me_

_ Leave me dying on the ground_

_ And I want love to _

_ Change my friends to enemies_

_ Change my friends to enemies_

_ And show me how it's all my fault..._

"That song is depressing," Ishida commented into the material of Ichigo's dorm pants. Wordlessly, Ichigo picked up the remote to the dock and clicked it off. Silence. Ishida squirmed slightly. The complete lack of sound was somehow worse.

"So Uryuu," Ichigo said, finally breaking the silence. "Don't tell me you came all the way over here just for a cuddle. Not that I don't appreciate it. After all, it's been awhile since the two of us have had a quiet moment together like this."

Ishida winced. To him, the words sounded like an accusation. _See, you really have been neglecting him. How long has it been since you've come over here at night? Since the two of you had any time alone together? The fact that you're struggling to remember means it's been far too long. _ Ishida gripped the comforter so hard the blood left his fingers. Ichigo didn't seem to notice. Finally Ishida said in a low, hoarse voice:

"I'm sorry."

"For what? For this morning before homeroom? Or for running out during school and not answering my texts for hours afterwards?"

The bitter tone that crept into Ichigo's voice made Ishida's heart tremble. Wasn't it enough that he had to push down pride and indignation and a whole host of other feelings that kept him wound tighter than a high tension coil of metal wire on a winch in order to make that single apology? Was it really not enough? _You don't know, Ichigo Kurosaki. You don't know how it is for me. I was perfectly fine before I met you; I was content in my life of solitude._ _I was happy being all alone, truly I was. But then you came into my life with the force of an atom bomb and now my feelings are all over the place. Your love has broken my control. My pride is in shambles before you. And it scares me. It scares me even more than you putting a sword through my gut because at least that I could understand. That I could comprehend. But this...I don't understand any of this. And to me that's even more frightening._

_ Let it go. _"I'm sorry for all of it. Homeroom, afterwards, now, everything," Ishida said flatly. _It's not true, what they say. Love is not unconditional. It requires constant sacrifice. Every day, all the time. _The realization was strangely liberating; Ishida loosened his death-like grip on the comforter. He suddenly felt Ichigo's fingers sifting through his hair, stroking along his scalp. His touch felt like a benediction. _Let it go. _Ishida closed his eyes, a sense of weariness overtaking him. The sensation of Ichigo's hands in his hair felt so nice he could have easily drifted off to sleep.

"I'm sorry, too," Ichigo whispered above him. Ishida cracked open an eye. There was a loud _thump! _from somewhere out in the hallway. The sound reminded Ishida of something else, and he asked, hoarsely:

"Hey, has your dad been seeing someone?"

The hand on his head froze. "What a strange thing to say. Not that I know of. Why do you ask?"

Ishida didn't want to talk about the conversation he'd overheard in Ryuken's office. In the safe, hazy glow of Ichigo's bedroom, his suspicions seemed utterly unfounded, absurd even. But he remained unsure. "Nothing. I just happened to spot him out in a strange part of town earlier," was all he would offer.

Ichigo shifted beneath him. "Now that you mention it, he has been dressing a lot better lately." Ichigo laughed nervously. "Maybe he has someone tucked away somewhere that we haven't met yet?"

_Oh, you've met him alright,_ Ishida thought gloomily. Then, as if thoughts of Ryuken had summoned him into the conversation, Ichigo said:

"You know, that's funny you mentioned seeing my dad earlier, because I saw yours in the Quickie Mart this evening, and I swear he was giving me a death glare. Well, more so than usual."

"Ignore him," Ishida instructed. "I do."

"Easy for you to say! That man is kinda scary. Makes me think he could sneak up in the middle of the night and slit my throat with a scalpel and not have any remorse about it."

"Now you're being ridiculous," muttered Ishida. Even as he said this, his fingers unconsciously traced the outline of the star-shaped scar his father had left on his chest. "You've fought hollows and arrancars and Aizen and now you claim you're afraid of my father?"

"Yes. The father of your significant other is always the scariest person in the world. It's a proven fact."

Ishida twisted around to stare up at Ichigo's face. In the dim amber glow of the bedside lamp, his strawberry hair looked more fiery than ever. _Like a halo of fire. _The chocolate brown eyes staring down at him held nothing but love and concern. It seemed unimaginable to him, given how the two of them had met, that these warm, tender feelings should exist between them. Strange that a bitter rivalry born out of an ages-old feud between their two races should end not in hatred, but in love. _Yes, but your father had this once, too. Remember? And it all ended in ruin... _Ishida shoved the nagging voice of doubt into the back of his mind. He reached up with both hands and pulled Ichigo's face down to his own, pressing his lips gently against his. It was a soft, tentative kiss, light as the brush of a moth's wing. Ishida drew back just far enough to whisper, "I came to your work today just like I texted I would. But you weren't there."

"Sorry about that," Ichigo whispered back, his face mere inches from his own. "I had to duck out early. Stuff came up." Was it a lie? Was it the truth? Ishida thought back to his conversation with Ichigo's boss. _Pale complexion, longish black hair, wearing a cross...his boyfriend. _Did it really matter? Like the conversation in Ryuken's office, it didn't necessarily mean anything. It was all just unfounded suspicion. _Oh, but it might mean something! Maybe if you swallowed your pride for once and dared to look closer! _whispered the snide, accusing voice in the back of his head. Ishida ignored it. _Let it go. _This was not the time for reprimands and accusations. Ishida leaned up and brushed his lips along Ichigo's. _Make me forget this horrible day. _The kiss grew bolder, more passionate, with every passing moment. Ishida turned around and pressed himself fully against Ichigo, the warm seductive draw of his body too delicious a haven to resist.

_Thump! _Another noise issued from the hallway, giving both boys pause. Ichigo said, with his nose still brushing against Ishida's, "Maybe I oughta go see what's going on out there. We might have eavesdroppers." Ichigo untangled himself from Ishida and crept barefoot to his door. He opened it and went out into the hallway. And that's when Ishida noticed the card sitting on his bedside table.

Ishida leaned over and plucked the card from its innocent perch against the lamp. It looked like something from a nightclub, all black and sleek with a trendy font. The front read: _Xcution. _Ishida flipped it over. The back said in simple black pen: _Come by anytime, Ichigo. -G. _Ishida let the card drop. The volume of the dark, accusing voices in his head increased tenfold.

"I don't see anything," said Ichigo quietly, coming back into the room. He stopped short-brought to a halt, no doubt, by the strange expression on Ishida's face. "Hey-what is it?"

"I gotta go," Ishida announced suddenly.

"Go?" asked Ichigo, his eyebrows pulled together questioningly. "Now? I thought-"

"-You thought what?"

"Well, I thought you might want to stay the night."

Ishida pointedly left the bed and walked back over to the window. With his back to Ichigo, he said, through gritted teeth, "I wouldn't want to be disrespectful to your family by appearing at breakfast unannounced. Wouldn't that be awkward for your father and sisters?"

Warm arms wrapped around Ishida from behind. Moist lips gently caressed the shell of his ear. A husky voice said, "So leave before breakfast then. Just...stay."

Ishida closed his eyes. It was so tempting. If only he could turn down the noise inside his own head, if only he could ignore all the niggling little suspicions that were eating at his brain. _Why can't I just let it go? Why? Just this once? _Unfortunately, the shadow of doubt ran long and dark and deep within him. Its influence was like a poisonous cloud, withering every good thing that dared to grow beneath its noxious shadow. So he said, in a dull, mechanical voice, "I'm tired. It's been a rough day. I'm going home."

With that, he broke Ichigo's embrace and slipped out the window, allowing himself to be swallowed up by the thick impenetrable fog lingering outside.

_To be continued..._

_A/N: Chapter title and lyrics were taken from the Jack White song "Love Interruption."_


End file.
